


Blaze

by AshenArrow



Series: Don't You Put Me On The Backburner [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Tower, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Needs a Hug, Coulson Lives, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Phil Coulson lives, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, Sleep, Smut, Steve Rogers Feels, mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshenArrow/pseuds/AshenArrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers join Phil's team on a mission. Phil and May rescue some civilians during the Hydra raid. Clint confronts his ex-handler. Clint makes a new friend. Clint and Steve finally take the next step in their relationship. Natasha and Fury try to figure out what to do about a certain ghost story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blaze

**Author's Note:**

> There is smut towards the end of this instalment, lol. Not very good, but there it is :)

The plan for the mission was simple. Well, simple for a mission that was to be played out by highly-ranked operatives. They were back in the conference room but now there was a bulletin board at the front of the room with photographs and thumb tacks and yarn connecting different points. Instead of Fury and Coulson it was only the suddenly-not-dead agent.

The team was not exactly sitting in actual seats, you could say. Tony was,, quite literally, sat directly on top of the conference table, cross legged like a little kid. Bruce was sat in the seat a little behind and to the left of the inventor, chin on his folded arms. Natasha was sitting on the window sill in the very back of the room with Clint on the floor beside her hanging feet. Steve was standing leaning against the opposite wall by the door, arms crossed with a totally unimpressed face. 

Phil trooped on like he didn’t see the looks being thrown his way by the supersoldier and the mechanic, or the fact that his two favorite assassins were doing their best at avoiding his gaze. The last part hurt a little, but he had forced himself to swallow it the minute he had stepped into the room because he had a job to do. He had to do his job and then he could selfishly leave them all to get back to their lives. Lives that didn’t include him anymore.

“We should ship out in about an hour. All in all, this shouldn’t be very complicated. It’s pretty straight forward.” Phil says, finally coming to a close on the hour long briefing session. Tony sighed in overly exaggerated relief because, frankly, any briefing was boring, especially ones that included awkward tension and silence.

“Excellent. Guess we’ll see you on the quinjet dock in an hour sharp?” Tony quips from his towering spot on the table. Phil opens his mouth to say something and then shuts it again with a resigned nod.

“That sounds good.” Phil agrees, and then the rest of the team shifts into motion. Tony and Bruce are gone almost immediately, and Natasha watches Steve leave. Grudgingly, in fact, judging by the look he casts in the assassins’ direction before leaving. Natasha casts a questioning look at Clint who finally yanks himself to his feet. He slinks over to Phil, who isn’t entirely sure what to say. The archer keeps his eyes on the floor as he opens his mouth and Phil shuts his.

“I-I’m not on active duty right now. I’ve been off of it for a while. Can I still go?” Clint shocks himself with his own words. His brain had made the decision without him, he wanted to go, to help, even if it meant being around the dead-but-not-dead-anymore agent, ex-handler, guy whom he thought was his friend.

Phil flounders when faced with making a response, which is something he doesn’t do often. He knows his past agents are as surprised by his lack of words as he is, but neither show it. Coulson has always been the one to keep it together, the cool demeanor a constant factor in their decade together. Maybe that was something else him dying had changed.

“I-yeah. I mean, yes, of course.” Phil stutters. Clint directs a nod at the floor and then Natasha comes over, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off and turns in the red head’s direction, muttering something Phil can’t hear that causes her to nod, turn tail, and leave the room. 

That leaves Clint with the man he’d presumed dead. The guy who he had carried all of this guilt and grief around for months about inadvertently killing only to find out that he had been alive all along, just hiding it from them all. He wasn’t sure what he was exactly doing that second.

“Were you ever going to tell us?” he says quietly. Phil’s breath hitches. He grasps the manilla folder in his hand a little tighter.

“I’m not-Clint,” he stammers.

“Forget the Avengers, the others, but Tasha’? Me?” he says, finally lifting his gaze and boring it directly into his ex-handler’s eyes. 

Phil sees it there. Everything. The pain and misery and guilt and anger. Phil put that there, or, at least had a part in putting most of it there. The anger was all him. It reminded him a lot of a very much younger, very much raw Clint Barton of whom he had picked up fresh out of the circus. Shield had been interested in The Amazing Hawkeye for a long time, and after the hardly twenty-something archer had been betrayed by his brother and mentor, he hadn’t been very open to a new organization out to recruit him. Or people. Definitely not people. He had worked hard to gain the trust they had had before Loki, and when they added Natasha to the mix it had just strengthened everything even further. Now, though, everything was on uneven ground. Uncharted territory that Phil wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to navigate himself out of.

“I had this...this thing for you, Phil. And a lot of it came from the fact that I knew that no matter what, you’d be there. For me, and Tasha’. For a while, I had thought that we came first, but now, I. I know. I get it. Whatever part of me that wanted you like...like that, it’s gone. But there’s this other part that reverts back and wants you back as a handler. Or a friend. I mean, that’d be great. That’s what we had been, right?” Clint swallows thickly and clutches at the back of one of the office chairs, knuckles slightly white.

Phil swallows, too, because that was a lot to take in at once. Clint, his asset, his agent, his friend, had managed to develop feelings for him. That wouldn’t be that bad, it really wouldn’t, if right after the confession he hadn’t followed it with how it’s gone. Phil had managed to destroy something before it had even started. 

“We could manage that, Clint.” Phil says quietly and evenly. The archer physically flinches back slightly at the sound of his nam,e.

“Don’t. You don’t get, get to do that. Use my name, try to make amends. It’s too late for things like that, Coulson. I...I have the team, now, and Steve. Yeah, Captain America has the hots for me,” he grins down at the table and then it drops back off his face, “anyway, this is just me getting it all out on the table so I could maybe, I don’t, move on somehow? It’s not that simple but I gotta start somewhere. Thanks for,” he flaps a hand in the superior agent’s direction, “this. I should… I gotta go.” he says, and then he;s walking towards the door. Leaving.

“I wanted to say something, I really did,” Phil panics, his voice suddenly stronger and directed to the back of the archer as he stops in his tracks, “but...by the time I was out of...medical...it had been a month. Fury threw a new team on me and said it was a security risk for you and Romanov to know. I fought him for a while, but then I realized he was right.” Phil explains.

“Right.” Clint repeats, eyes on the wall ahead of him.

“There was a funeral. I was an established dead agent. You and Romanov had moved on, joined the Avengers like I wanted you two to do. You guys were doing okay.” Phil confirms.

Clint rears around with a face of more emotion than Phil has seen from him in days. Anger. Disgust.

“So you just decided? You looked at our lives from the outside and just decided that, ‘eh, they’re okay’? You-I. You can’t just do that. I was here putting my fists through walls and they just sent Natasha off on somes drug cartel deep cover mission for months. She might not say it or look it, but she wasn’t doing so hot, either.” Clint shouts, face going slightly red with exertion.

“Barton.”

“No,” Clint shakes his head, and then digs a hand into one of the pockets of his jeans. He yanks out something silver and familiar looking before Phil realizes what it is. His dog tags. “I stole these off the helicarrier on a night where I was losing my mind. I don’t think I need them anymore. So, here.” he tosses them at Phil who fumbles to catch them for a second, “enjoy your new life.” and then Clint was gone, walking out the door without a stutter in his stride.

Phil wasn’t sure how to feel, exactly. He loved his new team, but he also held a certain undeniable protectiveness for his old one. No, not the Avengers, but his two favorite assassins. They had been this unbreakable trio that was nearly famous in Shield for getting things done and getting it done efficiently and done well. The pronouncement of feelings was even more mind boggling, but he wasn’t sure he had to worry about them anymore. He hadn’t been completely sure that his assets wouldn’t have been effected by him dying, but knowing that Clint had gone through this grief period and was dealing with it from the perspective of someone who had liked him romantically must have made the loss hit ten times as hard.

Phil left Avengers tower that day knowing he had ultimately screwed up in the way his death had been handled.

 

*****

 

Clint left that conference room feeling slightly lighter. The dog tags had been burning a hole in his dresser drawer. He wasn’t lying when he said that he had lost his feelings for Phil, but getting rid of the used-to-be-dead-man’s tags felt more final. He could finally get on with his life.

Steve was sitting on his bed when he came back to his floor, staring at his hands clasped in his lap. He looked up when Clint opened the door but didn’t say anything.

“God, I’m happy that’s over!” Clint shouts at the wall, leaning over and then straightening up again. A small smile plays on the super soldier’s face as he leans back, hands unclasping to support him behind his back.

“Did you curse him out?” Steve questions. Clint chuckles lightly and shakes his head.

“No. I just...got everything out in the open. There was some yelling, but I made sure I was particularly clear about it all.” Clint explains.

“How much was there?” Steve replies. Clint sighs. Okay, so here’s the thing. He hadn’t ever really spoken to Steve about Phil before. The man had just supposedly died and the subject of it all was still ultra sore, so he kind of felt bad that the blond was left out of the loop on everything. Clint rubs a hand down on his face and then plops himself down on the bed right next to his boyfriend.

“Him and Tasha’ and I were this great team for, like, ten years. A little while before the helicarrier went down, I guess I developed….feelings for him or stuff. It was stupid,” he shakes his head, “but they're gone. I woke up and spent all this time losing my mind and then we got together and they just disappeared. I just told him how it was.” Clint confesses.

They're both quiet for a while and then Steve curls his hand around Clint’s silently.

“Were you guys ever a thing?” he says quietly. Clint laughs bitterly.

“No, no. He has, or, had, his cellist. I think he's straight anyway.” the archer shrugs, “Gosh, this a strange conversation. Nothing ever really happened so I feel like it’s kind of an invalid piece of information.” Clint rubs his hands on his thighs.

“It’s not invalid. It’s nice you told me, though. Gotta keep me reminded that you’re such a catch.” he jokes, nudging the archer slightly.

“Har har.” 

 

*****

 

They go from the bed and somehow they’re suddenly on the quinjet deck, suited up and armed for a war. They wouldn’t be taking an actual quinjet since the suspected Hydra cell was in the midst of the city, but it was a good place to convene. 

Phil divides them into separate groups of two so they don't draw too much attention. They're all wearing street clothes over the variously colored body armor, Bruce with his stretchy pants efficiently concealed under sweatpants and Tony clutching a the suitcase armor inside a regular briefcase. In the end, they all looked relatively normal from the outside. Steve was an interesting challenge, but Tony sent Happy out to buy one of those Captain America shield-shaped backpacks and managed to cram the real vibranium one inside after masking it with black cloth. Clint has a collapsible bow and quiver of arrows shoved into a messenger bag on his shoulder. 

The goal of the operation was to carry it out without pulling civilians into the crossfire. The Hydra cell wasn't exactly in a deserted part of the city, so they were going to have go at with less bang and more stealth. Captain with Widow and Hawk with Iron Man. Hulk was to be in the monitor van on the street with Skye who was going to be handling communications and information. Phil’s team was at the ready in a nearby motel should their assistance be required. Phil had only ok’ed May, Skye, Mack, and Bobbi to jump in if needed, keeping FitzSimmons out of the thick of it. It wasn't where they needed to be, he had decided. It may be left over from nearly losing the both of them earlier, but better safe than sorry.

“We should travel separately and go in through different entrance points so that we don’t draw unwanted attention. We’re not sure how many of them are going to be there, so ambush and the element of surprise is going to be our primary advantage.” Phil is saying. Clint pulls at the collar of the zip-up sweater he is wearing, the jacket having been zipped to the top and uncomfortably constricting him to cover up his tactical gear. 

“Then, let’s move out.” Steve says, voice flat. Truth was, the Avengers seemed to be trying to keep themselves from becoming too emotionally involved. Clint and Natasha, especially. Normally the team likes to jokingly banter on comms throughout their missions and ops, but this time was different. As they moved out, everyone separated into their respective groups, there was nothing but a tense sort of silence in between check-ins on the comm lines. No one wanted to say something that might cause an argument, or tension, or an emotional breakdown, because that would compromise the mission and it was a high profile case that the city of New York couldn’t afford to have screwed up.

The alleged building wasn’t in a totally populated area. It was towards the edge of one, though. It was more of a warehouse than a building, though, but it wasn’t by the water or out of range of where it’d be dangerous to raid them without going about it stealthily. There were two doors that they were aware of, another actually leading into the basement where they believed prisoners could be being held in. Clint was planning on going through the roof after being tethered by Tony. Steve through the back door and Natasha the front. Phil was going in through the basement door with May, who had decided that she would most certainly not be sitting somewhere waiting around for the director of Shield to die (again). 

Tony and Clint circle around to the back of the building so Tony can, really quick put on the Iron Man suit. Clint strips from the bunched up civilian clothes, freeing himself from the sweater and loose jeans. He kicks them into a corner where they wouldn't be easily noticeable, and he hooks the quiver over his shoulder. He leaves the messenger bag by the clothes after unfolding the compound bow.

Tony flies them to the roof as quietly as possible before quickly harnessing and tying the archer safely to it, making sure that they'll have eyes on top whenever they need it. Clint insists on having Tony go join Natasha or Steve, concerned about not having enough manpower for the ambush.

“There’s a lock on the basement door. We should have it cracked in a few minutes.” Coulson informs them over comms.

“Copy.” Steve acknowledges. Clint fidgets in the harness, sitting crouched to the side of a skylight, ready to smash his bow through it and jump right on into the crossfire. He waited for the word, though, because once he was in there was no more element of surprise. The best time for him to crash on it would be for when they’re all too distracted to notice the archer that has smashed in from the roof and is now picking them all off, one by one. 

Clint hears the smashing of a door on two sides of the building. Widow and Cap. Clint slips completely into mission mode, waiting for the word that will send him bashing through the glass. He hears the shouts from startled Hydra workers from the main floor of the warehouse and tenses, ready to jump in.

“We could use some eyes, Hawkeye.” Iron Man announces, and Clint takes this as his cue to smash the bottom of his bow through the glass. It shatters beneath him and he jumps on through, but he goes basically unnoticed because the roar of shouts and gunfire is suddenly in his ear. He has half a mind to turn his hearing aids down but shakes his head. What a stupid idea,.

He hangs, securely suspended, above the wreckage that is a Hydra base. It is in complete uproar, but he nocks and arrow and lines it up with one who was advancing on Widow with a knife. He knows she could have easily held her own, but, if he was being completely honest, he just wanted this mission to be done and over with. 

He rounds about (the best he can while hanging midair) and spots at least five closing in on Cap. His finger tingle and they’re all laid out in under seconds. Cap meets his gaze momentarily and give a little salute with two fingers, but moves on quickly. Drawing too much attention to the exposed archer would most likely have him killed unless he was able to act quick enough to pull himself back onto the roof in time. He had the upper body strength for it, but wasn’t entirely sure he could dodge bullets.

“We’re in.” Coulson announces, cool, calm, and collected like he always is on missions. Well, beside that one in Chicago where Barton nearly bled out on the couch of a shifty safe house with med evac still and hour out. The Hawk had babbled on and on about things most of which he couldn’t remember. He did, however, remember messing up what year it was, thinking that the gunshot wound in chest was the stab wound from when his brother and mentor betrayed him back in his circus days. Coulson must have been desperate, because he had freaked a little and used Clint’s first name, which wasn’t something either did often on missions. It helped to ground the archer, though, so they never talked about it after that and moved on with their lives.

There were minimal Hydra agents in all on the main floor, but Clint looked for the few not fighting and shooting. Those would be the people trying to hide things, because, hello, the freaking Avengers were here trying to fight them. Any important information, plans, blueprints, files, projects, or secrets would be valuable to Shield and it wouldn’t matter if someone made off with or destroyed them. 

Clint found the one he had been describing. Frantic looking fellow who was scurrying around and scrambling from desk to desk towards the back part of the entire building, gathering papers and manilla folders. Clint smirks, nocking another arrow and aiming. He shoots to kill, not wanting to taking any chances. The man crumbles to the floor, files and papers flying out from his hands and landing on the ground. There’s a sudden commotion and Iron Man is suddenly on the comms, shouting about something.

“Hawkeye, one of them is making his way to the back door with a vial and no one is gonna get there in time.” the billionaire exclaims. 

“Got him,” Clint replies as he readies another arrow, “be ready to catch it.” and lets it fly. The arrow lands in the man’s back, causing him to freeze up and stumble. He trips over some office debri and the vial goes flying. Widow appears out of nowhere, catching the vial and tucking it safely into her utility belt.

“They have prisoners. We’re bringing them out. Three civilians. One teenager, two adults. It’s...they’re not doing so hot.” Coulson informs them.

“If that’s all of them, get them back to the Tower.” Cap orders.

“Copy.” Coulson confirms, and Clint zones back in on incapacitating the enemies. There’s less of them, now. Iron Man did a good job of taking a lot of them down, as well as Cap. Widow is currently engaging in hand=to=hand with some who looks hopelessly out of their depth, and Hawk smirks to himself before turning in a full swivel. Another agent is making an attempt at gathering the papers, and Clint doesn’t even hesitate.

“There is a certain pile of papers and folders towards the front entrance that they seem to be desperate to either destroy or hide.” Clint says grudgingly over comms. He was kind of hoping he wouldn’t have to speak at all, but it seemed important.

“Copy, heading over now.” Widow replies, and Clint sees the swish of red hair as she makes her way over. He knows that she’s got it and he moves on, shooting one other agent not being pursued by his team.

“Civilians out. How we doing on the agents?” Coulson inquires.

“We are,” Cap grunts, smashing the shield into one’s face, “clear.” he delivers the final blow to the final standing Hydra agents and steps back, panting slightly.

“Um, guys,” Iron Man suddenly says, “it might be worth noting that one of them appears to have started a fire.” Clint swivels again to see that, indeed, a good portion of the far wall was engulfed in orange flames.

Clint meets Iron Man’s metal faced gaze and the suit is suddenly mid air, swooping up to grab Clint around the waist and plop him back onto the roof. Clint start hastily untying himself, stepping quickly out of the safety harness and tossing it over the side of the building., 

“Someone put in a call to the NYFD.” Cap says stonily. They meet around the back of the building, doing a quick headcount. There were only four of them, really, since Hulk had remained in the security van. They cut their losses and make their way to the main road as Iron Man puts in a call through Jarvis. He flips the face plate up on the suit so he can talk to the rest of them after the call like a normal human being. 

They were getting reasonably strange looks as they made their way through the streets of NYC. After all, it wasn’t everyday that you came across a sight such as the Avengers walking on the sidewalk like normal civilians but in full tactical gear and not in the face of danger. In fact, to the general public, no one was really aware of the danger they had just defeated. Normally when the Avengers were seen in public, full combat ready and as a full team, there was complete and obvious danger. But this time, there was none. Tony could see it already, tomorrow’s headline, that is. 

They finally get back to the tower, going through the underground parking lot where they meet Coulson and his team who were waiting by the van.

“We brought the civvies up to your medical floor.” Coulson informs Tony, who nods. Clint spots Coulson’s ‘team’, a girl who was hardly old enough to be a Shield agent, a large black man, agent May, and Bobbi. He tries not to feel betrayed but fails, and Natasha comes up behind him and gives him a look, shoving him slightly to move him along.

“We can meet on the conference floor in twenty.” Tony tells him, and they all pile into the elevator to go into the Tower.

Tony heads off to the medical floor, where the three civilians are being treated, while the rest of the team disperses to the conference floor. They all end up in the small locker room where they keep their uniforms in between missions, stripping out of the heavy materials and hastily putting them away. One thing that secrets agents and superheroes say is how sweaty it can get inside those damn things. Bruce just looks happy to have on some real pants, because the stretchy Hulk ones he has aren’t exactly what he would call the most comfortable.

Clint sits down on the floor beside his locker, totally exhausted. Emotionally and physically. Steve stands in front of him in a protective sort of way but doesn’t sit as well. He smiles slightly down at the archer whose lips tug up in an attempt to reciprocate the gesture. 

“Nap time?” Steve jokes and Clint rolls his eyes.

“Ha ha.” he replies.

“No, but, really. Food and sleep?” the blond questions. Clint looks around and sees Natasha watching the two of them from a corner of the room, and sends a knowing gaze at him when she meets his gaze. His cheeks glow slightly red and he redirects his gaze back to the super soldier.

“Yeah, okay.” he agrees. Steve helps him up and Clint shoves the quiver, still half full, into his locker. He couldn’t be bothered with putting the extras away and everything into his proper place. Maybe tomorrow, he thinks, as he also collapses the bow and puts it on the top shelf before shutting the locker door.

They’re just about to leave when the ceiling speaks and stops the two men in their tracks.

“Agent Barton, Sir requests your presence on the medical floor. There is a situation that requires your expertise.” Jarvis informs the small locker room. They all look at the archer, who shrugs his shoulders in and ‘I don’t know’ gesture. 

Steve walks him to the elevator bay, where Clint presses a real quick kiss to his lips before stepping through the doors bound for the medical floor.

“I’ll meet you on your floor once I’m done with...whatever he wants.” Clint shrugs helplessly, even him himself not sure what his ‘expertise’ is or what Tony would need it for.

“Okay,” Steve nods, “have fun.” Clint barks out a laugh as the doors slide shut.

 

*****

 

“What’s the big issue, Stark?” Clint questions the second he gets off the elevator. Tony turns around from where he is standing beside a hospital bed. It was a girl, mid-twenties. She must have been the teenager they rescued from the basement of the Hydra base.

“She can’t hear me. I think she’s deaf.” he replies, sounding increasingly panicked. His hand is on her shoulder and he finally lets go to stop her from lashing out. Her eyes finally open and recognition hazes through them.

“Control.” she mumbles.

“Control?” Tony questions, turning back to her.

“Yeah, control.” she sighs. Stark looks confused and amazed and Clint stares on.

“I thought you were deaf.” Tony deadpans.

“I thought you were charming.” she retorts, and Clint lets out an unexpected laugh. He already likes this girl, whoever she is.

 

*****

 

Clint rejoins Steve on the super soldier’s floor after sneaking the girl from the medical floor, Hadley, onto one of the guest floor. He had waited until she fell asleep, and then a few extra minutes to make sure she stayed asleep, quietly ordering Jarvis to tell him if there was problem, before he slipped out of the bedroom and back onto the elevator.

She was quite something. She had clearly been through hell, and he was drawn in some sort of protective sort of way to her. She was basically a kid even if she was really twenty-one, the youngest person in the Tower yet still alive and kicking and joking after enduring nearly a year of constant neglect and abuse. Maybe an entire life. He admired that.

He tells Steve this when he gets there and the blond suggests that maybe he sees some of himself in her. He shakes his head and laughs at how ridiculous that sounds, because he’s not strong or anything, but can’t get the idea of his head. Maybe Steve is right.

They settle down for a movie but Clint is having none of it. He’s not really feeling tired anymore, and when a kissing scene comes on, he looks over at Steve to find that the blond had been looking at him, as well. Clint smiles and then sidles up closer to him as Steve wraps his arms around the archer, pulling him even closer. They end up with Clint basically sitting on his lap, mouth on mouth with all sorts of grinding. They had both thrown on some basic sweatpants that they kept in their mission lockers and Clint could feel Steve’s hard-on between them. Clint ground against it with his own and groans.

“Maybe we should…” the archer trails off and Steve nods, “my room.” he finishes.  
They barely make it to the bedroom, Steve pressing Clint to the back of the door as the archer makes quick work of removing the supersoldier's clothes. He pushes Steve back onto the bed, staring down at the blond with a mischievous look in his eyes.

He grabs the waistband of his shorts and slowly begins to slip them down his hips. Steve watches as Clint begins to strip agonizingly slow, frustrated but also incredibly turned on at the same time.

Clint finally removes his boxer briefs and then crawls forward onto the bed, placing his body atop the blond's. Steve sweeps his hands up and down the archer's sides. Clint presses his lips to Steve's and grinds down onto the blond, their dicks rubbing against each other which causes both of them to hiss in pleasure.

"I want you inside of me." Clint whispers against Steve's neck and then pulls back to stare into the blue of Steve's eyes. Steve stares right back for a few seconds with a very serious expression until it changes to something Clint can't exactly read.

"Okay." Steve replies, and then he smiles slightly. He leans to the right slightly, opening the bedside drawer and pulling out a small bottle of lube and a condom.

"When did you buy those?" Clint jokes from where he is now sitting on Steve's lap, naked and in all of his glory. A slight blush brushes the super soldier's cheeks before he shrugs.

"When I moved into the Tower, Tony thought it'd be funny to give me a bunch of condoms and stuff. Joked about me being a virgin and all." he replied, "guess he never thought I'd actually use them."

"Are you?" Clint inquires.

"Am I a virgin?" Steve laughs slightly, "No." and Clint smiles again.

"Okay."

Steve flips open the top to the lube bottle, pouring some on his fingers and then putting the bottle to the side. Clint turns the other way, letting the blond slowly slip a single finger into him. Clint lets out a sigh as Steve crooks his finger slightly, jerking forward and back down onto the finger. Steve adds another and they work up to the point where Clint is twitching and sweating on top of four fingers.

"Steve," Clint says lowly, "I'm not gonna make it if we don't get on with it soon."  
Steve's fingers disappear from inside the archer. Clint turns back around to face Steve, who grabs Clint's hips and gently flips them so that the archer is under him. Clint stares up at his boyfriend as he strokes him with a palm containing a decent amount of lube. He wipes his hand on the bed sheets, unconcerned about them right at that moment, before turning his gaze down to the man beneath him.

Steve leans up to press his lips to Clint's as he pushes into the archer. Clint groans lowly against the blond's mouth as Steve bottoms out, pressed completely against the other.

"Okay?" Steve murmurs.

"O...Okay." Clint agrees quietly, hooking his arms around the super soldier's neck, nodding.  
Steve starts to move slightly, pulling out almost completely and then sliding back in. After a few strokes, Clint makes a strange choked off noise in the back of his throat. Steve stops for a second and Clint gasps, shaking his head.

"No, no. S'good. Keep going." he gasps, and Steve nearly smiles. Pleasure, not panic or pain or discomfort.

Steve's hips start moving again, a little faster than before. Clint is letting out small noises that make Steve want to go as fast as possible but he restrains himself.

Eventually, Clint pulls Steve even closer by the neck and stares into the super soldier's eyes as if he's reading into his soul.

"Stop holding back." he orders and Steve stares back as Clint loosens his grip slightly.

"God, you're so hot." Steve groans, rearing back for a harder thrust. He delivers it, hitting deeper than he had been before. Clint lets out an actual moan, his eyes rolling back in his head slightly.

Steve's his pick up a fast pace that has the archer clinging to him for dear life, little cries escaping his mouth as Steve hits his prostate over and over again.  
Clint's orgasm is approaching quicker and quicker as Steve plows and the blond is hardly holding on. Steve thrusts in particularly hard and it's enough for Clint to shout out, throwing his head back spurting between the two of them and covering their skin in come.  
It was quite the sight, enough for Steve to unravel directly after his boyfriend, coming inside the archer with a strangled cry.

They stay there, Steve kneeling and Clint laying, until Steve finally pulls out and plops himself beside the archer on the bed. They tangle their legs together, the panting slowly dying down until they're laying there, staring at the ceiling.

"I think I'm in love with you." Clint confesses quietly. Steve turns his head to look at the other, but he keep this gaze on the ceiling.

"I think I am, too." Steve replies. So, that's that.  
Steve curls his body even closer around Clint's, pulling a blanket over them. They drift off, hoping the world doesn't end while they rest.

 

*****

 

“Agent Barton, Agent Coulson is requesting to speak with you before he leaves the Tower.” Jarvis addresses the out cold archer, who jerks awake and then groans. Steve shifts in his sleep and makes a low noise without opening his eyes.

“How long do I have?” Clint croaks, voice hoarse from sleep.

“I am under the impression that Agent Coulson is delaying his departure so he can converse with you.” the AI replies. Clint sits up, sighing loudly and then kicking his legs over the side of the bed. Steve’s eyes slip open slightly. 

“Where ya’ goin’?” the Brooklyn accent seeps into his voice more when he’s tired or half awake, and Clint smiles slightly at the sound of it.

“Coulson wants me before he leaves. I’ll be right back, soldier boy.” Clint nearly cackles at the reference that he knew Steve wouldn’t understand as she throws on some clothes and pecks the blond’s cheek before boarding the elevator.

He didn’t know what Coulson wanted him for, but he did know that he wanted to get through it as quickly as possible. It must be important, because why else would the not-dead agent be summoning him at six am?

He meets his ex handler down on the quinjet deck. He’s alone, which leads Clint to believe that rest of his team was already on their jet, ready to depart.

“Barton.” he says. So they're back to last names, only. Typical.

“Coulson.” Clint reciprocates.

There’s some information about that teenager we brought it that I though you should know.” Coulson says, and, for some reason, Clint feels a surge of anger crash over him. Of course this wouldn't be a personal talk, because Coulson was strictly professional all the time. Clint suppresses it, though, and puts on a professional mask of his own.

“She’s 21.” Clint replies. Coulson makes a face before recomposing himself.

“Right, well,” he straightens his suit, “you should probably know how we found her.”

“Okay.” Clint gestures for him to continue.

“They had her in a cell. They had chained her as tight as possible to the floor with noise-cancelling headphones and a blindfold. She was shaking like she was in excruciating pain. May grabbed her to help her up after I cut the chains off and she screamed bloody murder. That girl has been through hell, probably more than she’s told you about. I’m just saying that maybe you guys should ask her if she wants to stay around for a while, because she has no one.” Phil explains.

“Right,” Clint nods, “okay. Thank you.” Clint says shortly.

“Barton-” he starts but Clint shakes his head.

“Don’t. You probably gotta be somewhere important. Team’s waiting for you. Go.” Clint waves in the direction of the waiting jet.

“Clint.” Phil says, but all he receives in response is the flinch in Clint’s shoulders as he walks away.

*****

Natasha enters Director Fury’s office later on in the morning, face drawn in a professional, guarded expression. She’s holding an unmarked manilla folder under one arm and she is wearing normal street clothes at Shield HQ, which is rare. She only ever comes into Shield when it’s important these days,

The man himself is sitting at his desk, but he doesn’t look up when she comes in. He had been expecting her.

She drops the folder onto his desk in front of him, and he doesn’t look up at the redhead as he opens it and surveys the information inside.

“We have a problem.” she says as he reads through it. He nods in agreement, still not saying anything as he closes the folder once more. He leans back in his desk chair, finally fixing a one eyed stare on one of his greatest and most valuable assets.

“You could call it that.” he agrees.

“We need to figure out how we’re going to approach this situation.” she says, crossing her arms across her chest and levelling a stare at the man.

“Well, let’s start by agreeing that we shouldn’t tell Rogers. Not yet. He’s entirely too impulsive when it comes to the guy.” Fury says.

“If we’re not telling Captain Rogers, then we’re going to have to count Barton out, too.” she replies. Fury raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh?”

“You could say they’ve grown quite...close these days.” Natasha reiterates. For a second, Nick doesn’t seem to understand until he nods and raises his eyebrows even more.

“Really?” Agent Romanoff nods, “well, damn. Never pegged Rogers for the type.” They both laugh slightly.

“So, the situation, sir?” she presses. Fury sighs and rubs his good eye slightly.

“Leave it alone for now. I have a feeling that...well, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just say that things may not be the same for long around here.” Fury shrugs, looking to the side.

“Sir?” Natasha repeats, drawing her eyebrows slightly in confusion.

“That will be all, Agent Romanoff. I’ll call you in when I decide it’s time to proceed.” Fury replies instead of offering an explanation. He swivels in his office chair and types in a code on the desktop which opens a secret compartment in the seemingly simple piece of furniture. Nick puts the file in the slot, and seals it shut with a different security code. It was an important file, after all, a file recovered from a since destroyed Hydra base. Fury wasn’t sure who to trust these days, though everything seemed normal. He couldn’t help but feel like there was something a bit off, and letting people know that there was proof that a certain ghost actually existed wouldn’t fix things.

Agent Romanoff leaves Shield HQ with a knot in her stomach. She kept an impassive face, because that was what the Black Widow did, even if she felt like she had just the received the shock of a lifetime. It didn’t matter who she had known so long ago. At least, that’s what she told herself.

**Author's Note:**

> I am posting a new series intertwined with this one focused on Hadley, so check it out if you want :)


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